


The Last to Fall

by Counterpunch



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 04:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9702557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Counterpunch/pseuds/Counterpunch
Summary: She left Lissa at the doorway to her chambers. Lissa hugged her, as she often did. She was the type. "Sleep well, Lucina.""Goodnight, Aunt Lissa."The next day, Lucina would kill her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was not written by me, but I was given permission to share it on the writer's behalf

"You're still awake?"

Lucina looked up, surprised. "Oh - not for long. I couldn't sleep."

Aunt Lissa smiled. "Your father did the same thing, when he couldn't sleep. After Emm banned him from training in his room, anyway."

"He did?" She looked at the cloth in her hand, and the hilt that didn't truly need polishing.

"Yep."

Sometimes, the memory of him seemed so close, she could almost touch it. Her mother, too.

"You should try to get some rest," Lissa said. "You never know what tomorrow might bring." It was a lie - they all knew what every day would bring - but a gentle, harmless one. Lissa was the closest thing to a parent any of them had now, and if there was nothing else to give, she would offer them hope.

Lucina folded the cloth, sheathed her sword. "You're right. Can I walk you to your room?"

"Sure. But promise you'll get some sleep."

"I'll try."

The halls were dark and silent. The few guards that survived served as soldiers now. And aside from human beings, what within these walls retained value? No one had need of jewels, fine tapestries, old books.

She left Lissa at the doorway to her chambers. Lissa hugged her, as she often did. She was the type. "Sleep well, Lucina."

"Goodnight, Aunt Lissa."

The next day, Lucina would kill her.

-

Weapon meeting flesh was a sound familiar to them all. The sound that followed was more important: a grunt of irritation, or a scream of agony?

The worst thing, Lucina thought, was that she could identify all those she loved by the sounds of their pain.

She heard Owain cry out, and fought her way to him. "Should I fetch a healer?" Brady and Lissa always remained as close as they could - sometimes closer than Lucina liked. She dodged a falling axe, then removed the arm that held it.

Owain glanced at her long enough to smile. "Save staves for another, I shall fight grimly 'til my lifesblood is drained!"

His shoulder was grazed, but it didn't look deep. Still... "Be careful, Owain. And find someone to see to you after the battle."

He rolled and brought his sword up with what seemed energy-wasting flourish, but it got the job done, so perhaps he knew what he was doing. Lucina had her own problems to worry about. She left him to his.

But as they dispatched the last of them, she remembered one day at training, many years before. When her father was still alive. When he still had time to train them: Lucina and Owain. Lucina had always taken training deadly seriously.

Owain... did not.

He had only been at it for a short time - no more than a week. He was a mild annoyance to Lucina, but her father had quickly gone from irritated, to angry, to furious. Owain seemed oblivious, as oblivious as he was to the importance of listening and following directions. When nothing else worked, her father called for Aunt Lissa.

"He won't listen," her father said. "You want him trained, fine, but not if he's going to distract Lucina."

But Lissa looked surprised. "I didn't ask for him to be trained." Lucina saw fear in her eyes, and felt a little herself. "This will all be over long before they get dragged into it. Won't it?"

He didn't answer the question. "Then who sent him?"

"Hey, Lucy." Lucina turned to find Owain with wooden sword raised. "Want to practice?"

"Sure." She never felt afraid when she was fighting. She felt strong and powerful. Like her father.

She thought she would go easy on him - until she realized he was driving her back, gaining ground. He moved as she did - just as her father had taught her. She doubled her effort, but he still gave her a hard fight. When her father called "Swords down!" she had to take a moment to catch her breath.

Owain was grinning. "That was so fun!"

When Lissa asked him who had told him to begin training, he said, "Nobody. I told myself. I'm gonna be a hero, too."

He was allowed to continue.

Why had that particular memory resurfaced? Maybe his wound concerned her more than she realized. But now she could -

"Lucina!"

It was Gerome. She'd rarely heard such urgency in his voice.

"Brady and Princess Lissa," he said, and that was all he needed to say. She took the hand he offered and held his waist as Minerva rose and flew. Her heart beat quick and restless, but she told herself not yet to panic.

They reached the others as Noire and Laurent finished off the last of this splinter group of Risen. She saw Brady, breathing heavily, blood running from a cut above his eye. "I was trying to draw 'em away," he said. "Toward you guys. But... well, guess I ain't much of a runner." He was shaking all over.

Owain and Inigo arrived together, and Lucina could see Owain's shoulder still bled. But she didn't have a chance to say anything. When Brady repeated his story, Owain visibly paled. "Where?"

"Over that way."

He took off. Laurent and Inigo both called to him, but he never slowed.

"Maybe I... lured 'em off..." Brady slumped to a seat on the grass, still gasping, as pale as Owain had been.

"See to him," Lucina said, and ran after Owain. They would do as told.

_You never know what tomorrow might bring._

_Not Aunt Lissa. Please, gods, not Aunt Lissa, too!_

Owain had stopped on a hilltop, and when she reached him, she could see the frantic gleam in his eyes - or maybe it was tears. How long had it been since she had seen Owain cry? He hardly glanced at her.

But it was Lucina who caught a flash of blonde hair, in a nearby thicket of trees. A shelter, she hoped. She grabbed Owain's sleeve and pointed. "There!"

"She's moving." He was running again, Lucina barely keeping pace with his longer stride. "Mother!"

He was right - closer, she could see Lissa struggling to rise, bracing herself against a tree. Lucina could only see her back, but there were no grievous wounds. Maybe she was only stunned and winded, like Brady. Superficial damage.

Then she lurched around to face them. Lucina grabbed Owain's arm, forcing him to stop. He made a choked, desperate little noise.

Lissa had taken a sword to her torso, deep and tearing. But there was little blood, except that which stained her dress. It was she, not Owain, whose lifesblood had drained away.

Glowing red eyes raised and found them. Owain moaned and tried to step closer. Lucina held fast.

She knew what she had to do. But _could_ she?

If she didn't, someone else would. She couldn't force them to carry such a burden for her.

Lissa, who had never wielded a weapon, never swung a sword, had kept them all safe. She had stayed, when all of their heroes had fallen. If Lucina could not be brave for her, she no longer deserved her own life.

"I'm sorry," she said. To Lissa. To Owain. To her father. To herself.

She drew her sword and ran. Behind her, Owain was shouting, _screaming_ , but it was meaningless - it had to be. Ahead, those awful, glowing eyes seemed to swallow the world around them. There was nothing else: just Lucina, and an infinity of blood-red emptiness.

She swung with all her might, because she knew she wouldn't have the emotional strength for a second blow. And Lissa was gone, obliterated with the death of the unholy rite that had brought her back to hellish pseudo-life.

Lucina fell to her knees and sobbed. Alone. They were all alone.

When Owain punched her, she didn't fight back. They were both crying, and he was pummeling her, and shouting, and she deserved it. She had let him down. Let them all down. She was small and weak and could not protect anyone. She did not deserve the sword fate had bequeathed upon her. She didn't deserve anything but this pain.

Owain's fist found her ear, and she cried out.

"Owain! Owain, _stop_!"

Her eyes were closed, but she recognized Inigo's voice. They hauled Owain from her - she could hear him thrashing and protesting - but she stayed where she was. She could die here. They were all going to die.

"Calm down." Gerome's voice.

"...Lucina?" Noire's.

"Let me go!"

"Not just yet." Inigo.

"What happened?" Severa - the others must have caught up.

"She killed her! She killed my _mother_!"

A gasp that was probably Noire.

"If she did that, your mother was already dead," Gerome said.

"Lucina?" Laurent, nearer to her, and a hand found her shoulder. "Her ear is bleeding."

"Here," Brady said. He sounded better.

But Lucina said, "No. See to Owain. He was injured."

She opened her eyes. They were all there. For now, they had all survived. They looked frightened. They looked like children.

_Aunt Lissa... Father... How could you have left me to do this? How could you ask me to lead them?_

She wanted to be a child. To be protected. To never know the pain of destroying her own family.

Inigo still held him, but the fight was gone from Owain. He was slumped. Defeated.

Lucina wiped the blood from her ear and the tears from her cheeks. She pushed to her feet. But when she stepped closer to Owain, he jerked from Inigo and turned his back to her.

"I'm sorry, Owain." But she knew the words were hollow and meaningless.

"I know you had to do it." His voice was flat, thick. "But I don't want to be anywhere near you right now."

-

"Lucina."

It had been three days. She knew the worst of the pain would heal, but that made it no easier to bear. She had kept to herself, still struggling to come to terms with what she had done. But she turned now, from listless staring out the window, to Owain. He had dark smudges under his eyes, and it was obvious he was not far removed from crying.

He turned his gaze downward. "I'm... I'm sorry for hitting you."

"There's no need."

"Sure there is. I... couldn't have done it. What you did." He sounded so young and helpless. Lost. It wasn't a tone she had often heard from Owain.

She went to him, and when she hugged him, he sagged against her and wept. It had been several years since he was smaller than her, but still, she held him up.

"What do we do now?" he asked, after a time. He wiped his eyes, sniffled.

She had asked herself the same question half a hundred times. But the time for the luxury of self-doubt was over, and she had always known the answer: "We fight."

"You think we can actually win?"

She took a deep breath. "My father believed we could. So did Aunt Lissa."

"Yeah..." He pulled away from her, and managed a watery smile. "Then fight we shall. Glorious warfare into which our righteous vengeance is inextricably intertwined!"

She smiled back. He would be all right, with time. As they all learned to be.

And maybe when all was over, she would be, too.


End file.
